Free Fever by Lara Whitmore Page B

him be. They flashed before his eyes, over and over. If there was a way for her to die, he’d imagined it. The knot in his stomach tightened with each passing minute. His hands were restless, fingers interlacing behind his head and then dropping to his sides. He crossed his arms, only to uncross them a moment later. He needed a cigarette.
    Between imagining Anna’s death and glancing at Vincent’s sti ll form, he vowed never to play the role of helpless caretaker again. He belonged in the middle of the action. On the front lines.
    Vincent groaned, turning his head on the pillow.
    “You’re awake.” Logan moved to sit on the bed. He rested a hand on Vincent’s arm. “It’s okay. You’re through the worst of it.”
    “What happened?” The words ran together as Vincent fought to open his eyes. “Feels like I was hit by a train.”
    “Not a train,” he assured him. “Just one nasty werewolf. I’m sure it didn’t help that you never received the last dose of silver antidote. On that note, you should have told me you were a freaking werewolf. Anna would have been more than happy to blow your head off if I hadn’t been around to stop her.”
    “ I know. I meant to tell you. I just didn’t want it to be my opening line, considering your occupation.”
    Logan thought for a minute. “All that stuff you told me about being a prowler…”
    “It was true.”
    He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I didn’t want to beat your ass for lying to me, considering your condition.”
    Vincent didn’t answer. He was silent for so long that Logan wondered if he’d fallen back asleep.
    “You still awake?” he asked, voice soft.
    “I … feel better,” Vincent murmured, eyes flying open. His expression was a mixture of confusion and amazement. “Logan, I feel better.”
    “That’s because I’m secretly an awesome nurse,” he cracked. “Brought your fever down and everything. Took a strong stomach, but…”
    That earned him a huff. “You don’t get it, kid. The fever is a result of silver poisoning. Without the antidote, it should have risen until I went mad with delirium. Until I died.”
    Logan shifted uncomfortably as his words sank in. “So, you’re saying…”
    “I survived silver. It took me out of the game for a while, sure, but it didn’t kill me. Do you think–” Vincent looked hopeful. “Do you think I’m building up an immunity against it?”
    Logan wanted to say that it wasn’t possible. That silver was a weakness of werewolves, and that’s all there was to it. But while his grades in school had been shameful, he hadn’t missed the class on evolution. If Vincent was truly developing a tolerance to silver, it could mean the Society had a major problem on their hands. Other werewolves might be developing the same immunity.
    “Let’s not get ahead of ou rselves,” he answered. The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind his eyes. Massaging his temples, he went on, “Even if you are developing a tolerance, we won’t be testing that theory anytime soon. I’d have no idea how to test it safely anyway. I’m not a doctor, I can’t–”
    An idea that was both brilliant an d foolhardy occurred to him. “What about that doctor at the hospital? Dr. Allen?”
    Vincent visibly paled . “What about him?”
    “He would know h ow to test your potential immunity. We could force him to test it at the hospital, maybe even render you more immune, and kill him afterwards so he doesn’t pass the knowledge on to other werewolves–”
    “Sounds like you’re the one getting ahead of yourself,” Vincent broke in. “First of all, there’s no way I’m going near that hospital or Doc again. Second of all, there’s nothing to stop him from killing me during testing , since it will in fact be testing. Finally, unless you have a brilliant plan to hold him hostage in a public hospital without your scent drawing werewolves for hours, it would be a suicide mission for you. Forget it.”
    “All rig ht,